Stalker Plot 2 Sherlock
Aug. 24th, 2011 10:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wearingagunBeckett took the box with the photos to her desk and picked up the phone. When she still couldn't reach John she steeled herself and dialed Sherlock's number. He had, after all, told her explicitly to call if it ever seemed that she was on to something involving Moriarty and her gut said that this was exactly the sort of thing he'd want to know about.
"Pick up," she whispered, hoping she didn't go straight to voicemail.
Sherlock preferred to text. It helped him avoid having to deal with emotional clients. He just needed the facts, not the drama. The only numbers he answered were those of the police and related parties. He glanced sideways to the phone on the kitchen table and recognised Beckett's number. Could be interesting. So he picked up.
"Yes?"
"Sherlock," she said. "I think he's interested in me. Mor- you know. I've been getting things and now it's escalated. Photos, Sherlock. And it was addressed to Katie." The way she said the name was a mixture of fear and disgust.
Things. Photos. Hugely informative. The pressing tone though, made it obvious she was upset. "Pips?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "But I didn't want to wait until it was. Call it a gut feeling...this started just after we started closing in on the dealer. If I brought you things I've gotten will you look at them and tell me if I'm right?"
"Please do," Sherlock replied. "Don't forget the envelopes if anything came in one." There was a short pause, before he added; "There's time. If you were not sent pips, there's time."
That was more reassuring than she could say. In the back of her mind she knew, of course, that it wasn't the end until the seeds showed up, but she also knew that by the time they did there wouldn't be any stopping this.
"Thank you, Sherlock," she said softly. "I'll bring you everything I've got. Goodbye."
She wasn't surprised when the call just ended. Sherlock didn't do goodbyes.
"Pick up," she whispered, hoping she didn't go straight to voicemail.
Sherlock preferred to text. It helped him avoid having to deal with emotional clients. He just needed the facts, not the drama. The only numbers he answered were those of the police and related parties. He glanced sideways to the phone on the kitchen table and recognised Beckett's number. Could be interesting. So he picked up.
"Yes?"
"Sherlock," she said. "I think he's interested in me. Mor- you know. I've been getting things and now it's escalated. Photos, Sherlock. And it was addressed to Katie." The way she said the name was a mixture of fear and disgust.
Things. Photos. Hugely informative. The pressing tone though, made it obvious she was upset. "Pips?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "But I didn't want to wait until it was. Call it a gut feeling...this started just after we started closing in on the dealer. If I brought you things I've gotten will you look at them and tell me if I'm right?"
"Please do," Sherlock replied. "Don't forget the envelopes if anything came in one." There was a short pause, before he added; "There's time. If you were not sent pips, there's time."
That was more reassuring than she could say. In the back of her mind she knew, of course, that it wasn't the end until the seeds showed up, but she also knew that by the time they did there wouldn't be any stopping this.
"Thank you, Sherlock," she said softly. "I'll bring you everything I've got. Goodbye."
She wasn't surprised when the call just ended. Sherlock didn't do goodbyes.
